Arcana
by BreatheInEMinor
Summary: Xenophobia- n. A person unreasonably fearful or contemptuous of that which is foreign, especially of strangers or foreign people/species. Collabfic with KleineVogel. Mythical creatures. AU  not going to continue
1. Vorspiel Eins, The Crown Prince

jensen!note: prelude one of a collab _Indi-Scarga_ and i are doing! hope you enjoy.

always read in 1/2 size. -heart-

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Sitting in a little room, away from all the noise of fancy parties, haughty women, and croaking old men, was a young brunette. He sat perched on the piano bench, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to play, but nothing came to him. The usual virtuoso couldn't play, he had no inspiration. The Elven boy, maybe 17 in appearance, spent all his time as of late in the music room, lanky fingers at the ivory keys as he tried with all his might to produce music like he used to.

"Where has the music gone?" he mumbled to himself, bowing his head in defeat, "why can't I play any more..?"

His father, Beowulf Germanium, the King, seemed to believe his inability to play was caused by his inability to be a proper suitor and find himself a bride. The Prince did not agree as such, finding women to be too impossible, and that relationships were for those with much time or no future. Much against his parents' wishes, he did not want to marry any time soon, or at all if he couldརྙreally, he would only marry to produce an heir and continue the line of his family.

Truthfully, the Prince believed that if he did fancy another, he would lean more to the other side of the spectrum than a female. It wasn't uncommon, or frowned upon in the Elven community, but if the Prince were to take to a homosexual lifestyle, the bloodline would surely end with him. This would make him a disappointment to the entire Kingdom.

The Prince sighed, shaking his head and lifting his things, deciding that he was done with the piano for now. Staring at the instrument blankly was just making his enthusiasm dwindle even more than before. Getting up, he walked out of the room, heading to the gardens of the castle.

Instead of depressing himself with his failure to play, he'd at least be productive in the gardens, practice his magic. The Prince pulled his cloak over his shoulders, hoping to sneak off instead of being pulled into other duties, such as courting. Oh, how he hated courting lessons.

The brunette slipped out of the castle, only looking back once to make sure he hadn't been caught, and hurried down the old stone steps to the grass gardens below. Smiling lightly, he kneeled down, holding his hand out to gently touch a wilting flower. The Prince tsked, shaking his head, his fingers beginning to glow faintly. Slowly, the withered plant regained life, its petals regaining its luster. He nodded and continued on, reviving each dead or dying plant he came across.

"Edelweiss, Edelweiss…" he sang quietly, as he came across his favourite flower, "Every morning you greet me…"

"Small and white…" Moving through the paths of Edelweiss in the garden, he began singing louder, with more confidence, "clean and bright…"

"You look happy to meet me," he cooed. "Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow…" Violet eyes shutting slowly, he breathed in only the smell of flowers, and… something else. Not taking note to it, he continued.

"Bloom and grow fore—"

The Prince froze, the loud blast and screaming afterwards telling him what that smell was, and what it was bringing with it.

Humans, bringing War and Death to him.


	2. Vorspiel Zwei, The Knight

jensen-in-disguise-of-indi!note: teehee, i'm indi d'ohoho. enjoy my prelude!

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The troops moved with an almost eerie silence despite the armor they wore. They were uniformed each one in step, even spread out amongst the trees. A twig snapped here, a bit of a rustle there. The men had marched miles, left families and comfort, to be here. They came to stand among the trees, watching waiting. The troops had marched tirelessly, many had been eager before, to expand their lands. The troops had been excited to bring back riches to those loved ones they left. Others had been ready to get rid of this scourge. Still they were subdued now. The final goal within sight, just a bit farther and the attack would begin.

One though stood out amongst the troops, a silver haired youth. Unlike the rest of the men, who's faces showed a grimness for what was about to happen, he grinned. He stood stalk still like the rest of them, moved with them, but unlike the rest of them only became more excited as they got closer to their destination. He wasn't there for the riches. The youth didn't care about what species they were attacking. This was a fight, another battle for him to prove himself. Again.

Red eyes scanned the men moving before him as the troops continued to spread out. A hand itched to grab the loosened sword. Not yet… just a little longer, he would be allowed to strike. The eyes narrowed as the sly grin grew. Those eyes were what made the men uneasy around him, the color of blood. They reminded every soldier of the battle field, which had never bothered the youth. He was made to fight, loved to fight, and knew he'd probably die fighting.

The only other thing that made the men uneasy around him was his status. As a knight his title demanded that they respect him, listen. But his attitude… oh the attitude… each and every man who stayed around the youth off the battle field quickly grew tired of the superior attitude. Enlisted men agreed with it in hopes to increase their status. Generals and other knights though were eager to send him back to fighting, anything to get him to shut up. Because once war, a battle, any sort of challenge of that sort was placed before the loud youth the obnoxious boasting stopped. A serious look came to the red eyes, and he proved why the bragging was justified.

For only 19 years of age, the Knight was impressive. Fighting was what he ate, drank and breathed. He knew strategy, tactics, and any weapon he could pick up.

"There it is," he breathed, stopping next to a tree looking down at their target below. A leather gloved hand rested against the tree. He shifted the chainmail heavy after wearing it for so long. Over the mail he wore a typical knight's tunic, his family crest proudly worn over his heart. A shield hung on his other arm also displaying the same eagle, a black bird wings spread.

Not one to dawdle during the few precious minutes before battle the night pushed forward. Arrows would be shot soon, signaling the charge. He saw archers notching their bolts in the small crossbows. Others cast spells increasing strength, readying to throw their first strikes. At the edge of the trees the silverette stopped. Balls of fire dotted through the trees now. _Sword, your sword! _The Knight's mind screamed.

The sword found its way to his hand.

The young knight laughed as the first fireballs were thrown, mounting on each other causing a strike for others to be afraid of. _They were here!_ With a shout, he joined the others streaming towards the castle as more fire lit up the sky above them, striking stone, wood.


	3. Prelyudiya tri, The Magician

Prelyudiya tri; the Magician

Dresses swirled before him, an intricate dance; around and around, the men carefully leading each step to the dance. It was a sight to behold, the ball. This gilded hall, fit only for royalty. One might think that the intricate art work was too much, or the gold and silver leafing over stating. But here, it flowed nicely, showed off the abilities this proud race held. Upon entering one would see at the other end sat a throne, silver, nature inspired. It sat a few steps above the expansive dance floor. The wall behind it held doors on either end, for the king that occupied the throne to come and go from. But the interest did not lay with the man in the throne, rather the elf a step behind it, if this creature could really be called an elf.

Surely, it was a male, there was no mistaking that. He stood tall, like his fellow elves. But he maintained bulk, and towered over many of his own kind. To call him fat would be a mistake, for this seemingly cheerful man would kill you on the spot. Ashen blond hair, and a childlike smile, the Baron did not look like cold hearted killer. Even his eyes did not show the devious thoughts that continuously circulated.

Even as he stood a step behind the throne, his violet eyes picked out each person individually. While it merely appeared that he watched the dance the Baron plotted quickly in his head what it would be like if anyone made a move on his king, because no one was foolish enough to attack the baron.

Large gloved hands played with the ends of the scarf wrapped around his head. Though the court was warm, the ashen blond never removed the scarf; it was a reminder, a safety. And more importantly something for him to touch rather than his staff that leaned against the wall behind him. Nothing more than a hallowed out piece of metal, it was his favorite thing. It could break bone easily, of any creature, and he could use it to focus his abilities. It was perfect, simple and perfect.

The baron leaned forward, whispering something in his king's ear. His eyes narrowed as he spoke, the true deviousness showing, only for a second. As he resumed his upright position, the trace of the true horror the baron was had disappeared once again.

A crash followed by a scream, and another, beautiful gowns rushing in fear, fire eagerly eating the artwork. The Baron held his place watching with almost child-like glee as the ball turned into an ambush. Calmly, carefully, the king was led away. His pipe was in his hand, these attackers would learn better than to mess with his kingdom. Well, not that it was, not quite, but the king was old, the prince… the prince! The Baron shouted orders for the prince to be taken care of as he moved forward to dispel the intrusion.


	4. Prelude Four, The Fool

Prelude Four; The Fool

The Fool did not run away from a fight. He was valiant, cool, and defiantly did not lose! No, not a chance! The blonde bombshell was the best person ever, everyone adored him. The younger boys looked up to him, the guys his age were totally jealous of him, the ones older than him respected him, and the ladies loved him! No one could rival his greatness, especially when all he did was help others!

But, if he was so awesome why was he running away from this fight!

The Fool huffed, feeling slightly out of shape at this very moment, running as fast as he could from the two men he'd engaged in a fight with. He could so take them; he just had to be home. His mother was so calling for him!

The human teen ran as fast as he could back to his home village, ducking under branches and jumping over rocks along the way. Hurriedly, he made his way home, trying to avoid getting caught running away from a fight. He was sure he'd lost them by now. The Fool pushed past a small group on the way, almost knocking them over, pulling a face at how they smelled. Not bad, but different.

The Fool grinned when he saw his village, running to the small cottage he lived in. Pressing the door open, his mouth began to water as he smelled the food his mother was cooking. Score, they were eating special tonight! It must be a special occasion

"Yo, mom," he called out, lifting the lid of the pot carefully, "I'm home!"

The food looked as good as it smelled, some fresh game in there that must have been gifted to his mom from one of the single—or possibly married—men of the village. He wouldn't lie, his mom was hot! And the Fool only benefitted from the fact. The blonde didn't care that the men just really wanted to bone his mom, she liked the attention, and he like the free stuff! Not that he needed the charity; it was just awesome to get free game meat since he hated hunting. It was thrilling, but it took so much effort. He didn't want to get up at 7 in the morning to hunt!

And the best part of having a hot mom? He got her genes!

The Fool was a hit with the ladies, if he were to brag. Though, ironically—and something he'd never admit—he was a virgin. Yeah, yeah. Laugh. Sticks and stones may break his bones, but words will never hurt him! The human boy was actually proud of his status, being a little scared of intercourse. Putting his little buddy in some ominous dark hole? No way! One that apparently spewed blood out once a month, and babies every nine months? Hell no!

He sneaked a bite of food, then closed the pot and hurried up to greet his mother. The Fool found her staring at a picture of his father again, and he sighed in exasperation. He places a hand on her shoulder, looking down at her.

"Oi, mom, what'cha doing?" he smiled cheerfully, hoping to cheer her up. He knew how she got when she was thinking of him.

The frail woman laughed weakly, placing the photo down on her dresser and turned to face her son. She hugged him tightly, resting her chin on his shoulder. For a moment he thought she was going to cry, but then she pulled away and tucked a strand of his blonde hair behind his oddly pointed ear, smiling.

"You seem to get more and more beautiful every day, son," she said softly, rubbing her thumb over his ear, making him blush. The Fool looked away sheepishly, whining faintly.

"Mooom, stop calling me pretty, I'm a man!" he huffed, "men aren't pretty!"

"Aha, yes. A man whom won't even hunt for his poor mother," she teased, pulling her hand back and wringing them in her lap, a nervous habit of hers.

"Aww, cheap shot! You know I'm not a morning person " the Fool pouted, crossing his arms.

"Sure, sure, you're still a lazy boy, not a man yet," the woman said, a playful smirk on her lips, "but you're close."

The Fool huffed again, glaring at his mother. Some mother she was! Tease The blonde rested his hands on his hips, a very agitated and immaculate pose, "meanie! I'm so a man! so when is dinner?"

"Ha! Hungry like a man, yes," she laughed, "endless pit of a stomach, I wonder how I afford to feed you it'll be done in an hour. Oh, and son? Could you run me some errands while the food is cooking? I just need you to take a letter to the post service and pick up some fresh fruits. Could you do that for me?"

He nodded, his posture relaxing, becoming affectionate again. "No problem! Just tell me what fruits you want."

She paused to think before speaking, "hmm some tomatoes and a few bananas, ye-" The woman couldn't even finish her sentence before the Fool was out the door, running down the street to the market. Excited to have a reason to go out some more, and it would kill time until dinner was ready, the blonde hurried to the farmer's market of the village. Never one to be slow or even relatively patient, he ducked under low roofs of the variously sized cabins and huts.

The human boy looked up at the sign signifying that it was post office and grinned. Deliver this and get the fruit. Then he'd get to eat the delicious smelling feast! Stepping inside, he looked to the post apprentice, grinning at the young postboy's displeasure.

"Still proud to be a post apprentice, Rico?" the boy asked, handing the letter to the post master. The apprentice only glared at him, choosing to ignore him and the Fool continued on, heading to the market.

At the market, he looked through the stands, trying to find the nicest looking bananas and tomatoes, hoping to make his mother happy. But the shopping was cut short as his attention was caught by the village chief and his company. The small group of odd looking and smelling males from before. He frowned, looking at them with distaste, as he realized what they were. Elves. The Humans and the elves did not get along well together they were enemies. Elves were stupid, and untrustworthy.

Bad things came with Elves, he just knew it. They were probably planning an attack at this very moment. Those scum! Stomping over to them, the Fool fumed.

"What are you doing, letting those things into our village!"

"What is the meaning of this?" one of the elven males hissed, clearly offended, "what right does this stupid boy have calling us things?"

"You should really discipline your youth, chief," another Elf frowned, "it will get you in trouble otherwise."

The chief sighed, shooing the blonde male away, though not with much ease. He regretfully walked away, if only for his mother's reputation. Thinking of his mother, he remembered the shopping he was to do for her. As he took a step towards the market, he winced at the large boom that sounded. Head whipping around, he looked at the sight of clearing smoke and dead and dying Elven men. In the pile of dead and wounded lied the motionless body of the village chief. The Fool cursed, hurrying to his home. The blonde had to make sure his mother was okay.

On his way, more explosions sounded, and judging by the initial one, it was someone other than human or elf attacking. But who? Dodging an explosion of a hut near him, the Fool looked to his home with worry. But instead of being met with his familiar home, he was met with piles of rubble. His home was leveled.

"M-mother..? Mother! Mother, are you there!" he called out, rushing to search the rubble, "Mother, please!"

The Fool searched the pile of possessions, walls, roofing, his home, looking for his mother. But it was in vain. He could not find the woman. This brewed hope inside of him. Maybe she had survived? Just as he turned to rush out of the dying village, he spotted the soft skin and blonde hair of the woman he knew as his mother.

"No… Mother, no…" he whispered hoarsely, falling to his knees. The blonde choked back a sob as he stared at the lifeless body of his mother. This was why he hated other species, especially elves. They took everything from him, and he would make them pay. He would kill every elf he met, he promised this to himself, and to his deceased mother.


	5. Prelude Fem, The Devil

Prelude Fem; the Devil

Another drink was tipped back; the blonde humming in appreciation as the spirit all but passed his taste buds and poured down his throat. The glass half empty already he slammed it back to the table grinning from ear to ear. Tonight was his night to party.

Blue eyes surveyed the room looking for someone else to party with. Not that the group he'd gathered with his boasting was bad. It was just that the more the merrier, especially when he was in such a high mood. And they all thought he'd pay for their drinks, ha! He'd be ducking out the back before the bill was even proposed. It wasn't like this blond was going to come back to this place any time soon. They would long forget his face before he found reason to travel this far south again.

The man in such high spirits was a bounty hunter, and he had successfully been paid. Well not quite, his contract had entitled a kill and kill he did. The head was tucked safely away, and the cash the… victim had in his pockets were now in the blonde's. The Devil guzzled the rest of the drink, calling for another before the glass his the table again.

Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, paler skin… his northern heritage showed. Ladies would flock to such a man if only his mouth would stay shut. Sure the grin was charming but the sheer… stupidity which came out of his mouth turned most people away. No one, absolutely no one could put up with that energy. Now, it wasn't to say the Fool couldn't be serious, or calm down; it just was that he never did. Life was for the taking, and he was determined to live life to the fullest.

A fourth pint was brought to him, grinning he thanked the waitress before raising the glass in more of a shout than a toast. More joined in encouraged by the prospect for free drinks. The drink was tipped back, and the glass finished in one go. This was the life, his life, and absolutely nothing held him back. Laughing the idiot stood telling his new 'friends' not to worry, he was just going to relieve himself and would be back for another round to drink them all under the table.

A few feet from the door the blond fool got distracted by a pretty creature, as he tried and failed miserably to talk her up the table's attentions returned to amongst themselves. Grinning at the chance to slip out the male slipped outside… and did indeed relieve himself right there on the street. Hurrying, well as much as a man who is not quite sober could, the fool returned to the room he rented out and retrieved the head. He had hidden it in the room carefully prying apart the floor under the bed to hide the slowly rotting trophy. His mission complete the fool paid for the room and skipped town.

The Devil would indeed miss there, such a high spirited place but he was on to grander things. Namely getting paid, a few miles from town in another tavern he got his pay, the disgusting head passed along. Pockets much heavier he ordered a beer he planned to pay for.

Unknown to the blond, his movements had been watched. Not all the way from the town but just in the tavern he thought was safe for his passing. The prize that had been handed over had been noted, as well as the prize money. And as alcohol loosened the fool's mouth again the watcher grew more interested. The man boasted about never letting a target get away, always finding his prey…

"Excuse me sir," the fool watched as the seat next to him was taken. An admirer? , "I have a proposition for you."

"Unless you're offering me a job or a drink, then I don't want to hear it." The fool replied winking at the bar maid that passed. He quickly found a new beer in front of him. "So you're that kind of man, I guess you want me to listen."

"I want you to get something for me, or someone specifically." The man pulled out a drawing and handed a small picture to the fool who took it gladly. "I will pay you double what you got for your last job."

Blue eyes narrowed at the prospect given to him. A fairy? The fool ordered another drink on the man offering him the job. What harm could there be in hunting down this fairy? He hummed over the drink brought to him. It was a simple task, capture and bring back…

"I'll take it. And when I return I'll take your money," the Devil laughed, toasting the man. More easy money, how he loved his life.


	6. Alkusoitto kuusi, The Pipsqueak

Alkusoitto kuusi; The Pipsqueak

He had been calmly running errands when he was called to the King's throne. He hurried to meet the King, as no one made his majesty wait. The blonde tripped and stumbled, lurching forward slightly, before finding himself right-side-up. Hovering two or three inches off the ground, his small, thin, paper-like wings fluttered furiously. Nodding in thanks to his handy appendages, the Pipsqueak resettled onto the ground, continuing onward to his destination.

"For one, my wine is not _chilled_, it is room temperature! I demand it chilled, you know this!"

The Pipsqueak sighed, realizing why he'd been called to the throne this time. The King was up to his own antics, and he'd be forced to go on some wild goose-chase for some unneeded item. Great. Shoulder slumped, he walked to the throne, unamused.

"You called for me, my King?" he spoke politely, wings fluttering in annoyance.

"Ah, oui! Oui, thank you." The eccentric blonde perked up, pulled away from his hissy fit, turning his attention to the more reserved blonde, "I have a task for you!"

"Yes? What is my task, your majesty?"

"I would like you to get the Trésor," he said, suddenly serious. The Pipsqueak's eyes widened in surprise, unsure if his King was kidding, or if the possibility of Human and Elven war was that devastating for his people. Sure, he knew they would enter the war with the Elves, but he found this war quite unlikely. The Human and Elves had been displeased with each other for centuries, but never had they fought.

"But sir, the Tr—" he began, but was cut off by the other faerie.

"The Humans attacked the Elven castle not an hour ago. It is war, and we will be joining soon."

He stared in disbelief at his King. He couldn't believe that they actually were going to war! The last war that the Elves had fought in was against the Trolls, and that one had been to assist the Faeries. They had driven the Trolls into the mountains, and it had been relatively peaceful since then. But now it was their turn to return the favor. They would join the Elves in battle, and hopefully some treaty could be made. Some way to end the fighting.

The blonde had never liked fighting. He found bloodshed and killing stupid, trivial, and worthless. It made him sad to see innocents die, even those who had spilt blood, it was a sad sight to see the favor returned to them. He wished to live in a world free of fighting, unnatural death, sadness. The Pipsqueak just wanted happiness for everyone. But he was no fool, he realized this could never happen.

"I… are you sure, my King? The Trésor is how you want to go about this?" the blonde bit his lip nervously, looking at his ruler unsurely.

"Oui. It is the only way to ensure the end of this war without complete destruction," he said, and the seriousness of his King spooked the young faerie, "but it will not be for the Elves, nor the Humans. There is someone who needs it more."

"Who? Who am I delivering it to?" the blonde asked, confused by the King's vague words.

"Ahaha, well, I don't know. The prophecy didn't really tell me!" he laughed, the tense air shattered, "and… I don't know where the Trésor currently is, either…"

The Pipsqueak stared blankly at the King, completely lost. "You… don't know where an item that you want me to find and deliver to someone you don't know who it is…?"

"Haha… Oui."

"…Your Majesty, seriously!" he let out an exasperated sigh, burying his face in his hands, "do you at least have an idea where it is?"

"Uhm… oui! It is in the mountains!" the blonde King nodded, smiling.

"The… mountains… the _Troll infested_ mountains. The mountains where the Trolls who **hate** us Faeries reside? DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE!" he mentally sobbed, his look on life dimming.

"Oh, stop being so melodramatic, my lad!"

"Me! Melodramatic!" he squawked, "you are the man who invented melodrama, sir!"

"Hey, hey! I'm am the best actor, not melodramatic in the slightest!" the King scoffed, offended.

"Sure, sure… so.." he sighed, "to the mountains…"

"Oui! Good luck, don't die!"

The Pipsqueak set out on the journey that would probably be the end of him, with a heavy sigh of suppressed sobs.

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a/n: GUYS. GUYS. ARE YOU PROUD OF US? WE FINALLY UPDATED. ouo/


	7. Chapter one, Your Nymph

a/n: presenting chapter one. it's so long. ;; this chapter is all thanks to our lovely beta, ashleyjordan. go send them love. read on!

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A quiet crunch of glass was all that was heard as an armor-encased man strode inside an ancient vicinity that must have once held a lively party. The knight grinned, his red eyes narrowing as he scanned the area. His once white uniform was now stained by mud and traces of blood. Outside there were screeches of panic and rampant disorder; everything the knight loved to hear. This sound of grief and sheer terror was pleasing to the man's ears for if he was the one hearing those screams, it meant that the people back at home-the humans he was fighting to protect-would not be the ones screaming. It would not be their homes burnt to the ground nor their lives completely mangled and destroyed.

The knight paused to look outside again, his garnet eyes absorbing the barren scene of a fire ravaging a series of buildings nestled just beyond the palace grounds. The invasion had gone quickly. Despite their hate for one another, the elves were surprisingly unprepared for a likely attack. He liked to think it was due to the awesome strategy he had drafted, but in reality, the plan of attack had been straight forward and nothing overly flourished. No, they had just chosen when their enemy was most unaware and vulnerable. The course of events leading up to the battle had been beautiful; every defense crumbling before their forces charge. He closed his eyes, savoring the memory of the sight; not of the lives broken before his dominating reign but the realization that his enemy was scared.

"Gilbert?"

The knight's eyelids fluttered open, seeing one of his fellow knights step in though the shattered window that he had previously entered through to get into the interior of the palace. How the elven guards had not spotted the two intruders yet was a surprise, for the palace was probably one of the best guarded areas…

"Just looking for stragglers, I'll be right back out. This place is probably going to go up in flames soon," Gilbert calmly explained, waving his sword as a means to usher his companion back outside. There would be time to boast in the company of others later-right now, he was enjoying the success alone.

The albino walked farther into the center of the ball room, taking in the awe of the majestic palace.

"Selfish elves," he murmured gruffly as he meandered across the smooth tile flooring,

"They killed off humans trying to build such works and then made one for themselves to party in. They cursed humans who cut away forests to build homes and towns. They killed _my_ kind simply because they were hungry and wanted to make a decent living! Elves thought that they were so superior…hah! See what your superiority has brought you?" Gilbert yelled to the empty hall,

"You are on the verge of ruin now. Your fancy bows and perfectly sculpted arrows mean nothing when our sturdy swords and strong hearts can burn your homes to the ground!" He spat on the floor in distaste, turning into a grand chamber adjoined to the main ballroom,

"Thinking you are above us all in your intelligence and breeding. Well now, look how the tides have changed."

Gilbert gestured as if he were speaking to a room containing a mass audience of people, grinning as he spouted,

"Your city is on fire, your people dying! And all you had to do was realize who your masters were…instead of kicking us, ignoring us; acting as if we were dirt." He faced the throne, eyeing the impressively chiseled chair before striding purposely towards it.

"And you, your highness, should know when to bow-to bow at my feet." He pointed his sword at the empty seat as he slowly ascending the tiered platforms of the throne room,

"Do you wonder how I got this blood on me? I will tell you, your _majesty_, because I know you wish to hear the tale! It was one of your gate's guards. He didn't fight very well." Gilbert clicked his tongue in mock sympathy as he slowly sank into the cushioned structure of the grand chair. Positioned in the center of the throne, bloodshot eyes scanned the once extravagant hall. His left hand remained clasped firmly onto the hilt of his sword, his eyes narrowing with the completion of his gruesome soliloquy,

"One swing. That was all the time he had before my sword cut though his shoulder down to the point where I could pierce his beating heart."

He took a moment to gaze at the reflective surface of his blade, pausing to listen to the chaos raging outside,

"You do have the same look on your faces when you die though. Panic, fear, the wonderment of why you…" The knight's words trailed off as he paused to use his tunic to clean off the marred sword. Better to wipe the blood off now than leave it to rust. "It makes me wonder why…" the rest was left to float in the still air as his thoughts drifted off.

There was a crunch of shards of glass being trodden over as the second knight returned again, eager to check on Gilbert.

"Hey, are you coming?"

"Yeah," Gilbert pushed himself out of the throne, "I would have looked good as a king though." He laughed to himself while descending onto the floor.

"Sure you would," The other stayed by the broken window frame, periodically glancing outside for signs of reappearing elves, "I'm surprised this roof hasn't collapsed yet."

"Probably magic," Gilbert said, ignoring the warrior to head further into the castle. A shout from the other knight provoked him to wave over his shoulder,

"Hey if the royal family is still in here, someone has to give them an honorable death by sword." The shout from the other man was promptly ignored; he would get back outside and join his army but first, he would discover where this hall would lead.

Surprisingly, the hall led to nowhere interesting. No hidden doors, no grand rooms of treasure. The knight sighed yet did not pout, because it was not awesome to pout. Even if a mountain of treasure could have been the most awesome discovery ever, he would not even be able to exit out the grand front door with a single shilling of his prize for the pale man had lost his way, having gotten turned around in the winding corridors of the palace. At a loss for a door, he opted for smashing open a new window even though the one right next to it had already broke.

The battlefield waging outside was as chaotic as Gilbert had left it. Immediately, he sensed a presence behind him. Whirling around, his ruby-red irises beheld an elf warrior perched above him, ready to deliver a death blow on the head of the supposedly unaware victim. The knight raised his sword, quickly blocking the strike from the obviously surprised elf. Who would have expected a human to make it this far into the palace? Grinning, the silverette kneed the elf low and hard. He swung his sword up, catching the elf across the neck with the edge of his blade. All it took was a simple slice to end it, but the knight was disappointed that he had not managed to decapitate the creature. Filthy things.

With a yell and a renewed thirst for blood, Gilbert rushed to the next opponent he could find. Sprinting down the hall, through myriads of corridors and corners, he finally found another elf already engaged in a fight. Uncaring, Gilbert cut the occupied elf warrior across his exposed back, enjoying the sensation of his sword cutting though flesh and bone. With a grunt, he placed his boot on the back of the fallen warrior who now lay dead in a pool of blood, before yanking his sword free again. The silver-haired youth did not hear the call of gratitude from his fellow knight as the other turned away from the scene, eager to find a new opponent themselves.

Red eyes scanned the scene before him, human and elf locked in the throes of battle. The sunlight filtering through the trees contributed perfectly with the stage, illuminating every angle of the skirmish without impairing or hiding any activity from eyesight. Once the initial shock of the surprise attack waned, women and children ran to hide, embers sparked and fanned into wild fires which licked its way over the ramparts of the city, spreading into every crevices until buildings began to ache and growl before collapsing on themselves in the wake of the deadly flames. The death count was mounting, piles of lifeless corpses and dismembered bodies were being heaped upon one another as the fighting carried on. Upon viewing the carnage, Gilbert grew restless-he wanted to find something to interest him; no, something to challenge him. As if beckoning to his unannounced desires, from the corner of his eye he spotted a figure darting off. He tilted his chin in the direction of the movement to get a better assessment of who had disappeared but whoever it was, they were already too far off to recognize beyond their humanoid form and fluttering cloak.

Suddenly, Gilbert growled. It had better not be a deserter. How he loathed such beings, who were often first time participants in any form of battle. They could not stomach the blood or they came to recognize qualities of themselves or their family members in the faces of their enemy. Many left because war was not as glamorous as the actual combat and realities of death had sounded. Gilbert contemplated on his options before coming to the conclusion that even if it was not a deserter, it would be a fleeing elf. And as a knight, Gilbert could not allow an elf to escape to rally more troops. It was not as those Gilbert believed that all the elves had to die but that they had to remain in their ruined city, under the rule of their new overlords.

Mind made up in a matter of seconds, Gilbert took off after the fleeing figure. Whoever it was disappearing across the distant battlefield was incapable of being recognized but as Gilbert drew nearer, the knight came to realize that the figure was an adult and was in fact male. Those simple facts were enough reason to cause Gilbert to run faster. Clearly, whoever this figure was, he was a coward of some degree. Either elf or human, Gilbert was honor bound to run him through with the cold steel of his blade.

"Stop!" He yelled, ducking to avoid hitting his face on a low branch hanging in his path as he reached the outskirts of the cleared field. It was proving to be difficult to keep up with this other male's pace while his sword was still in his hand yet he refused to be caught unarmed for Gilbert had no idea if the other had purposefully revealed himself to lead the white knight into a trap. It was not as if the awesome knight could not get out of whatever fate befell him but it would be more…possible if he already had his sword and concentration prepared. Besides, sheathing the weapon now would only mean pausing his pursuit and the possible escape of the elusive figure he was intent on trailing.

Through the dimly lit branches and brambles of the undergrowth, Gilbert noticed that additional sunlight was appearing in a glade up ahead. Good, this would give Gilbert the opportunity to catch up to his target for there were no branches for him to try and avoid while the strange deserter had both hands free to protect himself from such problems as offending twigs and branches.

"If you don't stop you'll regret it even more when I finally catch you!" He threatened, hoping the other realize that they were dead either way. Additionally, a shorter walk back to the battle would be ideal instead of scrabbling his way back through these God-forsaken woods. Gilbert winced slightly as he burst out into the glade, his arm rising swiftly to cover his eyes from the flash of sun that he had surely seen coming yet the knowledge did not make the light any less blinding.

"Tell me why you are deserting!" He ordered as his eyes quickly adjusted to his bright surroundings. His chest rose and fell slightly from his brief escapade of tracking his quick objective. Detecting that he was panting, Gilbert reigned in his breathing by exhaling and inhaling at a more controlled rate. He refused to show that he was laboring to breathe for to show such a thing was an obvious sign of weakness. He was the main source of strength of the knights, and he was determined that he would give this deserter something awesome to look at in their last moments of life.

As Gilbert collected his breathing as he sprinted to catch up to his fleeing quarry, the runner stumbled a few paces away from Gilbert's reach. The air stung his lungs as he sucked in deep gasps of oxygen. He was not a runner; he was not built to do strenuous work. Abruptly, the thin man in the cloak tripped and fell over a fallen log hidden beneath vibrantly shaded autumn leaves; the sudden blindness by the glade's light stunned the man for a moment, not as long as Gilbert had been blinded for, but enough to throw his bearings off. The cloak furled around him as he hit the ground with a thud. What little air had been in his lungs was knocked out of him as his mind wearily spun. Winded, he crawled on his forearms a few meters while attempting to breathe normally once more.

The odds were against him in this fight, he knew that and he wanted to have as much fortune on his side as he could. Getting out of the glade was the first step. The glade was much too open of an area for him to fight in; he was a long-ranged weapons man after all. His pursuer was a brute: a sword-wielding, close fighter. The cloaked man's style of combat was to hide in the trees he was familiar with and attack from there. But first, he had to get off the ground.

Pushing himself off the ground, the young man grabbed onto the nearest tree for support. Once he touched the tree, he could breathe again-the tree gifting him with the air he sought and the strength he needed. Whispering a fast thank you to the tree, he quickly pulled himself up into its branches and concealed himself in its dense foliage. The cloaked boy had to be quick, he had to find one of the many trees that his fellow people hid weapons in. Taking a running start on one of the long, twisted branches of the tree, he made a jump to a nearby tree. After a moment of searching, he made the same jump to another tree, to another and another until he finally found a weapons arsenal. Searching through the carefully stowed compartment in the apex of the tree, he seized a longbow. The cloaked male ran his hand down her bough, feeling the soft skin, smiling to himself. He had not had the time to pick up a weapon in weeks and now that he had, it was quite refreshing. Gripping her taunt string, he pulled her into draw and then slowly released her. Grabbing a quiver, he filled it with bolts then securely closed the storage unit. No need to let the other find the weapons stash, even if it were only by chance that he knew to searched for weapons in the trees. The sprite youth was about to leave the hidden stash but decided to stow a dagger into his belt just to be safe, before leaping out to various other trees and back towards the man in the clearing. Setting an arrow into the notch of his bow, he pulled her back into draw, and sifted through the branches, targeting the other. He scoffed at the man's blind dance, chuckling to himself at the open-space warrior's poor choice to fight in a close combat style if he could not stand light. It was shameful.

Taking a deep breath, he took his aim; aim at the man's heart. He would kill him. No need to get spiteful and make it painful. Yes, the man had been an assistant in killing his people, destroying his home, but he would not be a fool. There was a chance that if he did not instantly kill the man, that the knight could bring harm to himself and he did not want to risk it. But then again…maybe he should not kill him at all? He shook his head in confusion, clearing the notion of pardoning the man's deeds was lunacy. No, no, the man had killed many of his people thus he could not let him live. He could not...

The cloaked prince took aim, hand starting to shake from holding his bow in draw for so long. He apologized swiftly, then aptly stared at the male he was about to kill. It was a shame that such an odd male had to die. The prince would have enjoyed learning about him. With his hair pale white as a Sylph's, eyes as blood red as the Devil's, this man appeared to have a story to tell. And from the looks of it, the Silverette seemed to be left-handed-he was an odd creature that the prince had never seen before. It was such a shame that he had to end such a beautiful creature's life. Sighing, the prince took the shot, plunging the bolt into Gilbert's left shoulder.

Gilbert hissed, a fiery pain shooting though his shoulder and arm. He glanced at the shaft protruding just inches above his heart. Realizing that the shot was aimed to kill, his eyes narrowed as he ran for cover.

"Coward!" He shouted as he leaned against a tree, knowing his assailant was somewhere on the other side of the clearing. His left arm throbbed in pain but he refused to release his sword, he would be dead without it.

Wincing from the effort, he switched the sword into his other hand; he hated using his right hand. It never moved near as well as his left, it liked the better shield… the shield that he had left behind in town.

"Stupid," he scolded himself, knowing full well that if he had his shield with him that the metal could have saved his left arm. And right now he could not try to get rid of the arrow lodged into his chest. Carefully he snapped the shaft, hissing again as the arrow head moved slightly. Gilbert knew he would have to push it the rest of the way through or risk tearing more by pulling it out.

"Answer the question!" Gilbert bellowed suddenly, calling out to the vacant clearing, "If you are even still there, coward! Why desert the fight? Couldn't stomach it anymore?" He peered around the tree, shouting as a means to lure his opponent into sight; he had to spot the cloaked figure. Just for an instant he thought he caught a glimpse of the man hidden within the shadows of the forest before he disappeared behind a collection of trees. He did not appear to wear the same white knight robes as he did so it was obvious that he was not a member of his forces. Using that to his knowledge, that left his options of his assailant's identity to either be that of an elf or a mercenary.

"Did you just figure you could take your gold and run?" He taunted, "And now you shoot from the trees, hiding yourself. You're a pathetic being!" Gilbert leaned his head back against the tree again; he could not see any sign of the dark cloak. Gilbert figured that whoever it was probably decided to continue running. Yet he thought it strange though, he had not noticed a bow on them earlier.

"If you're still here, come out and face me like a man! You should be a bit closer to my level of awesomeness now that your low blow has injured me." He knew that he would still win if only he could get the person to come out in the open.

But the prince was no fool; he would not step out of the trees protecting his location for the trees were the only things keeping him safe. In the midst of waiting for another opportunity to fire off a second arrow, he watched the human curiously, tilting his head to the side slightly. Maybe he should go down there, just to humor the other? Though this idea was amusing, he did not consider this course of action. It was stupid and would only get him killed. The other may have a wounded dominant arm but by no means did that mean that his right was not strong enough to wield his sword. The prince would play it safe and not act in a rash or stupid manner.

Pressing a lock of brown hair behind a pointed ear, the cloaked male re-gripped his bow, taking another jump to a different tree. The fair man on the ground had hidden himself yet with the trees on his side, he had the advantage. Sure, the human could hide, but he had just changed trees and was able to get the knight within his sight again. Crouching, the male repositioned himself in a tree overlooking the man unaware of his close proximity. Perching himself in the tree quietly, the prince watched the other carefully. He took all of the other's movements into consideration, calculating how well he boded with a wounded shoulder and wielding a sword with his non-dominant hand. It was intriguing, how much smarter the human seemed to be than he had previously believed. Maybe he would give the prince a run for his money? He doubted it though, sneering at the other. Because, when it came down to it, he was an elf, and the other was a pathetic, stupid human being.

He considered just ending the other's life then and there, but that would be no fun. He had taken this much of an effort keeping him alive and harmless; he might as well finish the job. Pulling out another bolt, he set it on his longbow, pulling her into draw again. Taking aim, the prince released, firing the arrow directly into Gilbert's right shoulder. Smiling slightly at the cry of pain issued after the impact of his shot, he rested his arm, lowering his longbow slightly, but not fully relaxing. Humans were tricky creatures, and he was not stupid enough to fall prey to their tactics.

Gilbert hissed as he was struck again. Really? The sword fell from his hand this time, his right hand not prepared to continue battle so thoroughly injured. He looked around, following the direction from where the arrow had originated. There were few choices considering it hit his right shoulder and the glade was still not but five paces away from him. After a few seconds of his rose-hued eyes panning across the glade, Gilbert easily spotted the figure resting in the tree and the smug look on its face.

Obviously, it was not human-it was hopping from trees, for goodness sakes! Gilbert took pride in his ability to be able to hear things moving about on the forest floor or any 'floor' of any type, which saved his life more than once. This…thing had avoided his detection skills through floor movements so it had to be hopping from tree to tree. It also was balancing really well in that tree and no human could balance that well with that kind of look on their face without fucking it up somehow. And finally, and most importantly, this creature had actually shot the awesome him twice! That alone meant you had absolutely no soul and probably multiple things wrong with your head.

The knight growled in irritation, moving to pick up his sword. The growl turned into a suppressed whimper as he felt the second shaft move though him. Alright, so he had forgotten about that momentarily and apparently it had gone all the way though. Well that much was a relief; the bad part was that the head of the arrow seemed to be embedded into the tree. He could not lift his left arm to break the shaft, nor move forward and try to wield his sword without a whole conundrum of problems. Such as ruining his good arm, getting shot again and bleeding slowly to death. He could not do the same with his right arm considering the arrow was limiting that muscle movement, so he was here, pinned to the base of the tree, ripe for the picking. And Gilbert could not remember a time in his life before that he had felt sorry for the animals he hunted.

So, instead of moving, he decided to simply glare up at the smug figure. Anything he said would be pointless and most likely make him sound like a bigger idiot than he already felt he was. So, it was now the time to die with a semblance of honor. If being shot down by… that thing… in the tree… was an honor.

The prince was surprised, honestly, by the fact that the human seemed to be… giving up. Letting himself accept death-that…that bothered him. Annoyed him. He was supposed to be interesting, not weak! Shaking his hair out to cover his ears, the cloaked prince dropped from the tree. Like a cat, the male glided onto the ground with smooth grace, glowering at Gilbert with barely concealed fury. With a bolt waiting on his longbow, he held his bow up, drawing her into a position crooked between his neck and elbow, aiming at the human. He took a few steps towards him, frowning with disappointment.

"What? Don't tell me that you give up already?" The prince snarled, gesturing threateningly at Gilbert with the bow, shaking it slightly. Despicable. He had hoped the other would have put up more of a fight than giving up after two bolts to the shoulder. Taking another step forward, the prince drew the bow back more, enticing more tension. At this distance, with his much force, the arrow would surely kill the human if he hit him in the right spot. "Are you scared? Scared to die?"

He aimed at the human's head, directly at the center of his skull. Looking at Gilbert with dark eyes, he asked,

"I could kill you right now, you know that? Do you want to die?" The prince lowered his aim, towards the man's heart,

"I could rip this out; this is what you _creatures_ value the most, right? Your heart! Or…" He trailed off, redirecting his aim towards Gilbert's netheregions, "Is it your tiny prick that you value most? I could mangle them right now and leave you to live without your precious kleine Pillen." The cloaked prince stared at Gilbert intently, watching him, not faltering in his aim at the human's balls.

If Gilbert could have shrugged without grimacing he would have, instead he just watched the creature standing before him. The entire time he kept thinking that he should drop and roll and grab the sword when he got close enough. Instead, he found himself continuing to stand there. For some reason he trusted the shot of this creature and knew he would be dead if he moved. But not moving? Well that seemed to only draw it closer. Hell, if he stood still enough it might walk right up next to him and he could just spring a full body attack then! Sure, he'd damage both his arms, probably tear something important, but at least he would bring the creature down with him. That was so much more awesome than being pinned to a tree and being shot.

"You leave my future kids out of this, you can have penis envy all you want but fucking mine over isn't going to grow yours!" Gilbert snapped, realizing that _it_ had been talking to him. It probably would be better to actually pay attention especially when his private region's safety was in question. Clearing his throat, Gilbert began retorting to the other,

"You might want to repeat what you said earlier, because I kinda missed it. You know, you being slow and all getting over here. Then again, I don't see why I should pay attention to you when you still haven't answered my questions. You know you're rude, so could you get on with it already? At least I know my soul is saved. Unlike yours, deserter."

The prince scoffed, shaking his head. "Me? My soul is in danger? You're the one who just slaughtered dozens!" The dark cloak moved slightly as he took another step forward. "I do not have to repeat myself for the likes of you. You should have listened better, but your rudimentary hearing probably wasn't sufficient enough to understand regardless." He watched Gilbert cautiously, not trusting him, especially since he had angered the other. Humans seemed to act similar to Berserkers when angry and he was not going to risk his neck if this one was the same. Lips twitching into a sickening smile, the prince took his final step closer, leaving only a stone's throw away. Tilting his head, the hooded prince quirked a brow,

"Now, are you ready to die? Answer me honestly. Do you want to die?" He asked, quieter than before. The male stared at Gilbert intently, willing the most honest answer from the other.

"I killed to protect my people. You have no idea how heartless the elves are! It is better to have their palace and stuck-up-the-ass crown burn than more of my kind be killed by the likes of you!" Gilbert pushed from the tree, uncaring about how the arrow lodged into his should was wrecking more damage to his wounded torso. He flinched and gasped harshly as he felt the feathers enter his wound but ignored it as he pressed on in his rant, "You answer my question of why you would desert your kind, why you would be such a selfish coward and I'll decide if I'm ready to die! Because if there's the possibility of more of your people running around then I can't die yet, I've got more than just pompous elves to kill."

Gilbert braced himself before reaching up and snapping off the end of the arrow. A slight stumble and then he was off the stupid tree and that much closer to the idiot. Luckily his legs were not shot. Insensible for the future movement of his arms, or the current pain it caused him to move them, he rushed forward grabbing the bow before snarling, "I'd rather not die by a coward's bow!" He forced the bow high into the air and kicked the other in the stomach.

The prince's eyes widened in surprise as the kick sent him tumbling to the ground, while he simultaneously pulled his bow close to him. Shit! He had not expected the human to pull himself off the tree. Smiling, he quickly rolled right and jumped up into a standing position.

"Ha, that's more like it," the cloaked prince chirped, reloading the bolt and aiming at Gilbert, keeping a safe distance between the two of them.

"Komm hier. Show me what you got," he almost purred, shooting a teasing bolt, the arrow narrowly missing Gilbert's head, cutting off a lock of his hair. "Ready?" He moved slightly to the right, keeping his eyes on Gilbert, but using his peripheral vision to inspect the nearest tree. If he moved just to the right...

"Steady…" The prince quickly loaded a new arrow into the shaft of his bow, running directly towards Gilbert. He veered slightly to the left, running up the trunk of a tree.

"Go!" His voice rang through the treetops as he hurried across the branch and jumped to the next tree. The prince continued his game of jumping trees, trying to confuse Gilbert and egg him on at the same time.

It was much harder to fight a fleeing target above your head than one that challenged you straight on. Gilbert wished he had a way to tire the stupid thing out, preferably before he bled out his entire life substance. Well, thinking about it, this thing had to be a tree because no other creature that the knight knew could leap about like that and have the trees that much on their side. And there had been no indication that the creature possessed wings. Gilbert slowed in his pursuit and grinned,

"You know what? I know why you're a coward and abandoned your kind! You're not part of the kinds there!" He laughed, coming to a complete stop, letting the creature get away yet again.

Gilbert stilled his laughing spout; he had to goad the thing to come back. He looked at a sapling next to him, tree spirits were attached to the trees right? The knight never had paid that much attention to things like that. Hoping it would get some anger out of the creature; he cut the sapling down with a stroke, and then broke a branch off a nearby tree. It was not that he had anything against tree spirits, generally he figured that they were okay, not like the elves who were arrogant and made their homes in the trees and then complained if anyone else did. Nah, they were the trees and let their kind be used for warmth or development. But this one was just ticking him off, they challenged the awesome. And they were going to die for it.

The prince flinched as he heard the quiet scream of the child spirit as it was struck, dying. His eyes widened and he almost fell from his spot in the tree. Gripping the branch, he leaned his cheek against the tree.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered to the old Oak, pressing a palm to the bark, his fingers glowing lightly. He could not do much more than qualm the sorrows of the tree spirit within the Oak slightly. "I'll make him pay!" He hissed, jumping from the tree to another. Gliding from tree to tree, he held his bow out, seething with judgment.

"This is all you do, kill!" He hollered, releasing the bolt and sending it flying at the human. It narrowly missed, but a second later he was loading the longbow and firing off another. "You humans are all the same, you all are killers!" The prince released another arrow, this one hitting Gilbert in the right thigh. He loaded yet another bolt, firing it off into Gilbert's lower abdomen close to his left pelvic bone. "How dare you kill an innocent child! You bastard!" The cloak furled behind his movements and splayed out beautifully as he dropped down from the treetops, glaring daggers at the human. Stalking towards Gilbert, he snarled, "You are sick!"

Gilbert really should not have remained standing nor should he have moved forward to confront the spirit that stalked towards him. But he would not kneel before anyone and he would not be killed sitting down.

"It got you to come back and face me. Though not very much like a man, maybe you're a woman!" He sneered, his sword gripped loosely in his right hand. He knew he could not swing it, not very well anyway, but he would not drop his image as an invincible warrior.

"You had to shoot my legs as well just to feel like I was down at your level? You think very little of yourself; I would have left maybe one healthy leg until I was even with you."

The knight did not care if the bow was pointed at him still, that the next arrow was meant for his heart,

"If you thought I was sick, you would have shot me down long ago. You would have fought back in the elf village, unless you agree with my kind. That the elves are too high and mighty, that they look down at everyone as if they are worthless creatures. That sapling would have been fine if you had talked to me and hadn't shot me. Instead you decided to drag others into this by refusing to face me!"

"No! Don't you blame me for that death! You killed a child!" The prince shouted, his voice cracking. In the close confines of their dialogue, the cloaked male slapped Gilbert hard across the face. "I should kill you for what you've done, but I'm above that. You don't deserve death," He spoke coldly and harshly, drawing out every syllable with his grating tone,

"You deserve living in the world you hate so much." Gilbert had opened his mouth to argue back, but the prince suddenly pushed Gilbert down onto his back, pressing the heel of his boot on the silverette's hand, stomping down with such force until the other was forced to release the handle of his sword. The Prince kicked the weapon away before shifting his motives, pressing his heel mercilessly into Gilbert's lower stomach while screeching,

"You deserve immortality and torture!" With that, he wrapped his fingers around the shaft of the arrow in Gilbert's left shoulder, ripping it out. This caused the albino to cry out in pain. Ignoring his victim's cries, the prince moved to one of the arrows in the human's leg, ripping that one out as well without a second thought as the man groaned in uncontained agony.

"You killed the innocent, you don't deserve kindness or mercy by any means," The prince mumbled, pressing a palm roughly across each of the fallen man's leg wounds. Slowly, his hands began to glow a light red and then wounds beneath his palms began to dissipate and restore the tarnished flesh. The prince sighed, pulling his hands away when he was sure that the wounds were gone. He crawled over Gilbert, sitting on his stomach with his legs straddling the man's torso, only sitting on his frame to keep him still. Then, the male pressed his hands to the wounds on the human's shoulders, healing them also. "They will ache."

Gilbert gaped at the other, still in shock that he was _healing_ him. His blood loss had to have been higher than he thought with all that running about.

"Y-you might have to repeat that, again you're slow, never answering my questions and firing off your own," He taunted, uncaring about the position he was in. Obviously, he was not going to be killed any time soon by this creature.

The prince sighed, shaking his head. This human was so stupid.

"My name is Roderich Edelstein," he said slowly, mocking Gilbert, "For you, I am a Nymph." Though the prince was lying, he was not that far from the truth. The Nymphs and the Elves were very similar, though the Elves were less pacifistic than the Nymphs. Nonetheless, he was lying about not only his name, but his species. It was no matter. It was not like the human would ever learn he was lying if Roderich could help it.

"I'm not a deserter, nor a coward. That is simply how I learned to fight. It's more practical than valor-filled. Obviously, from the results of our battle, it was a better fighting style than yours. Now quit complaining," He said, finished healing the other but staying stationary on his stomach to keep the other from attacking him. Roderich tilted his head, looking at the male with mild curiosity. He had learned a lot about the other during this encounter and he had to admit, it had amused him. Though, he was mildly annoyed with the male's tongue and murderous behavior. The prince guessed he would have to get past it for now.

"What is your name?"

"For me, you're a Nymph? Like for me, you're straddling my waist?" Gilbert said with equal slowness a smirk coming to his face, "I hate to tell you, Rod-rick, but I don't go for dudes, especially ones who can't stand their ground and fight." The knight did not particularly enjoy being pinned on his back but an enemy that would heal you? Well he would put up with it; after all, it was this guy's fault for wounding him in the first place.

"So… my arms will be sore, but they're all ready to go, right?" Gilbert asked still avoiding releasing the information of his name. Yes, he was just healed by the Nymph, but it was the same thing that shot him four times and narrowly missed snuffing his light out twice. Also, there was the fact that the creature was sitting on him, acting as if they would be traveling together or something.

Roderich frowned at Gilbert's comments, shaking his head,

"You're an idiot," he hissed, shoving on the area where Gilbert's wounds had been, knowing it would be sore and a scar would be left. The prince sighed in distaste, baring his teeth. He did not enjoy Gilbert's attitude or obnoxiousness. "I wasn't coming onto you. I was healing you and keeping you from attacking me in the process," He slowly explained, "Be grateful, blockhead."

The elven male looked at Gilbert's cheek, noticing it was reddened slightly and that a small cut was there. Had he slapped the other that hard? Begrudgingly, the prince pressed his hand gently to Gilbert's cheek. Concentrating, his hand began to glow again, slowly healing the slice.

"This is how I'm apologizing for using you as a sort of Snargle, erm... a Guinea Pig?" he mumbled, hoping that he had translated it correctly for Gilbert to understand. Lifting his hips, he moved off of the albino, finished with healing him and sat beside him on the leaf strewn ground, sitting cross-legged.

"So, ready to tell me your name now?"

Gilbert sat up slowly rubbing where he had been healed. It was a weird feeling to have someone who was trying to kill you a moment ago to now heal you with such tenderness. At least he did not change completely, still insulting him like some prissy elf.

"Gilbert. That's all you really need to know. You could call me your awesomeness though, I don't mind that." Shifting, he looked about for his sword for the knight felt empty without it. The prince tensed as Gilbert moved for his sword, keeping his gaze on the blade nervously. Uncaring for Roderich's personal feelings, he grabbed it before moving it back to his side. Only then did he fully turn to address this weird Nymph.

"You're still a coward." He bluntly pointed out, staring intently at the woodland spirit. It took a moment before he added, "But thanks for healing the damage you did." He glanced away, his eyes falling on the sapling he cut down. He felt a little bad now, what if that had been the Nymph's sister or kid or something? Sure he did not mind killing to defend his people, to expand what he knew was right, but that did not mean that he did not feel awkward or guilty afterward while talking to the families of those who died. It was why his typical policy was to kill them all, so no vengeance could be taken on him. A quick glance at the... eh, at Roderich, and he wondered if he should follow his usual policy.

Though the sword had yet to swing, and Gilbert seemed at least... sociable, the Prince still did not trust it. Roderich was of a cautious species. He did not trust much more than his own kind, but he was not as on edge as he usual was in a situation like this. Looking at him oddly, Roderich tilted his head as he did not understand what the other was saying,

"Awesome..?" He mumbled, blinking, searching his knowledge of English, a language not native to him, "Oh…ah…Imbecile?"

The albino shook his head in disapproval, scoffing slightly. Roderich watched Gilbert silently, curiously. The brunette examined the other's movements, expressions, actions.

"You feel guilty, don't you?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Why he was quiet, he did not know. He felt as if he were to speak any louder it would shatter any semblance of a moment they might have. Roderich was curious to get to know this human, he was... different. But he was not going to show it.

Gilbert shrugged,

"Obviously, they were something to you. I guess I feel a little bad now…I mean, you did heal me. I can't exactly bring back your kid here." He made a face before moving to stand; this sentimental crap was not his sort of thing. The knight was careful with his sword knowing the other was watching every minute movement and he would rather not end up with an arrow sticking out of him again. Gilbert glanced at his sword, it pained him to do this but he had to put it away if he wanted to let the other know he was not going to change his mind and chop off the head of the asshole who dared challenge his awesomeness.

"Er, thanks again...," He said awkwardly sheathing his sword, mentally berating himself for putting it away with it so needed to be cleaned and that if he did not wipe away the grime soon, it was going to rust. The knowledge of what could become of his precious sword weighed more on his mind than the chopped tree or even his wounds. Well, to be fair the tree was dead so he could not really worry and his wounds were healed so they were not going to get infected or anything so all he really could think about was his prized possession.

Roderich's violet eyes widened slightly in shock. Blinking in confusion, he stared at the now sheathed sword, tilting his head slightly. Holding back the slight quirk of his lips, he was finally comfortable enough to remove his eyes from Gilbert's sword and onto his pale face.

"Nein," he said, shaking his head, "It's...it's fine. Lives are lost a lot...it's just sad when they die for no reason, but...it's my fault...for antagonizing you."

The guilt and blame was all his. Roderich had challenged Gilbert, tested him-pushed him to the point of murdering someone innocent. Looking away nervously, the prince sighed, running a hand through his hair, checking to make sure his ears were hidden.

"The trees know you didn't mean it..." He cooed, pressing a hand to the stump of the sapling. The knight's smirk slowly faded, his head tilted slightly trying to figure out what Roderich was doing now.

"The trees know? Hey, aren't you a tree? Don't you mean 'we know' ?" He asked, making quotation marks in the air because obviously he was not part of this "we". The knight knew he was far too awesome to be part of that collective.

The brunette shook his head, his hand slowly emitting a light green.

"Nein..." he said, ignoring Gilbert's comment, "They know you feel guilt." The prince hummed quietly, a little tune, almost like a lullaby, to himself.

His curiosity getting the better of him, the knight moved closer trying to figure out what was going on. Was it some sort of tree funeral? Were there such things? Should he ask? Shaking his head, Gilbert moved away again, he had to move on.

"Uh... I'll leave you be-you know alive and all." He bragged before turning to walk off.

Slowly, the dead stump of the sapling began to crack, the small crack pushing open. The slit grew larger and larger as a small, thin leaf appeared. Soon a thin branch joined the leaf, and then a young trunk. A small, young sapling grew from the center of the dead sapling, and Roderich smiled at it weakly.

As Roderich removed his hand, standing up, he looked at Gilbert. Slightly disappointed, his eyes turned to the ground, watching as a few blooms of Edelweiss appeared next to the sapling. The prince truly loved Edelweiss...

Gilbert didn't know what possessed him to look back, to do so usually implied feelings of not wanting to go... and he really did want to get away from this weirdo. The sight of the reformed sapling had him freezing,

"Did you just do that?" he asked waving to the tree, before hurrying over and actually shaking the thing. It was solid.

"What were you getting all upset for if you can just bring it back to life? Weirdo…," He grumbled, not realizing he was crushing the Edelweiss that had sprung up.

Roderich stared at Gilbert in shock, or rather, Gilbert's feet and the crushed Edelweiss. He did not know how to react. All he could do was to stare as the other destroyed what he had just created.

"Can you not kill everything that lives!" he shouted, slapping Gilbert. The elf snarled, taking a defensive step back.

"Just because a new one is sprouted does not mean that I revived the old one. I cannot bring back the dead nymph, I can only bring a new one to life!" Roderich glared at the silverette, his chest burning with rage. The stupid human destroyed his Edelweiss. His precious Edelweiss!

Gilbert stared back at Roderich, hand flying to his sword before he could stop himself. He gripped the sword tightly, willing himself not to draw it.

"I give you a compliment, and you turn it into an insult. I had been amazed by your ability, and you just bring up me killing things. The sapling you just birthed is alive, stupid Nymph!" He shouted back. Clenching his fists, attempting to control his anger before he got into another fight with his savior, Gilbert forced himself to turn and stomped off through the underbrush while yelling over his shoulder, "Go turn yourself into a tree!"

"You... you killed the Edelweiss..." Roderich mumbled, staring at the now crushed patch of beautiful white flowers. "You kill them and then just leave!" The elf rubbed his eyes, willing himself not to overreact. He had to keep his cool. Roderich had to stay calm.

"You're so ridiculous, you bastard! I hope you die!" He snarled, stomping off in the opposite direction of Gilbert. Gilbert in turn, whirled around-he would not let the stupid Nymph have the last word,

"I step on a few flowers and you freak out. You're such a woman!" He shouted after the retreating back of the other male. He glared at the cloaked figure, "They're just stupid flowers! Not like they're a life!"

"They are! Everything is a life, no matter how big or small!" He yelled back, turning to face the other. Roderich threw his arms up in exasperation, "You're so stupid! So human!" The prince could not stand this human. He was so different, but ten times more infuriating than most humans!

"You don't think about anyone else but your-" Roderich words were cut off as a loud explosion sounded behind him. Eyes wide and his hair flying about his face, the prince's head whipped around to see what had happened.

Gilbert was sure he had a response, was positive that he was going to let this nymph just have it. Instead he stood utter surprise as... something, plummeted into the ground. He was already rushing forward to check it out, the argument about the stupid flowers forgotten.

"What were you saying about everything being a life?" He joked as he ran past the other male, eager to see the damage. Roderich hurried towards the explosion, stumbling over his own feet and some of the debris of land.

"Gott im Himmel!" He cried out, staring at the large hole in the ground. The prince could not believe how sudden it was and how lucky they were that the explosion occurred in the glade; not harming any of the surrounding foliage.

"Did you do this!" He squawked at Gilbert, smacking him upside the head. Gilbert ignored the swat, too excited about what could possibly be in the hole. But he was somewhat flattered that Roderich believed he could do something like this.

A low roar sounded from deep within the hole, and in that instant, Roderich realized it was not Gilbert's fault. The cause of that hole was not by human design…and something was coming out of the hole.

"Gilbert, Gilbert we have to go," He rushed, nervous as to what would emerge from that black abyss, "It will probably kill us and-" Gilbert waved off the frantic pleas, already drawing his sword. He was ready to take down this... whatever it was. He would restore his honor for getting shot by such a pansy.

A curl of brown hair appeared first, then the rest of the head of hair. Soon, a face appeared, slim, the eyes slanted, nose slightly flat.

"Hey, hey, you two!" The being spoke, its accent extremely Eastern, "Oi, you two are of the prophecy, right, Da-Ze?" The creature grinned at them.


End file.
